People Let Me Tell You 'Bout My Best Friend

It was a time of my life that I took for granted, a time that I selfishly thought would go on forever. I never dreamed nor did anyone who knew us, think it would ever come to such an abrupt end, an ending that came to soon. Like a great play, movie or book that you almost become intimate with or a spontaneous event that you wish could happen over and over, endings always come too soon.

On July 26th that unforeseen moment, that unrehearsed ending happened when I walked into our family room to find my wife Julie lying there, peaceful but unresponsive. I immediately flashed backed to one spring morning when I was 11 or 12,  as I was getting ready for school and heard these God awful wails and screams from our neighbor who it turns out had just found her husband dead. I found myself re-living that moment when once I realized Julie was not going to wake up, creating noises from deep inside that must have sounded disturbing to anyone who could hear my cries for my very best friend.

Ours was a friendship that began even before I knew it. But Julie knew that first summer we worked together at WBNS-TV that we were loves destinity. The summer intern from the newsroom would have probably predicted then and there that the floor director who stood between the cameras every night during the news would someday be her husband. As for me, all I saw was a girl whose hair was curly and came to a point but nothing special. Why would I be interested in her, I had already found the love of my life or so I thought.

By the next summer, my love interests had changed from girls at work to playing golf. Julie returned for another internship in the newsroom and for some reason I found myself being drawn to the newsroom more and more even though floor directors were to never to step foot out of the studio. Luckily I followed my instincts and not the rules that summer. Still she pretty much had to ask me out that June 30th, 1977 evening as we watched the weather radar together while discussing the controversial topic, does outdoor smell change if a tornado is approaching?

Until 4am the next morning on the screened porch of the house where she lived with her parents and two sisters, we drank beer iced in a wheelbarrow, leftover from her Dad's party for a softball team and families. Since no tornado destroyed the evening, talk swiftly moved to more realistic topics and quickly we learned about each other. We moved to my car to say goodnight but found we still had more to talk about. Then, as the birds signaled daylight was approaching so ended our first date and the sun would soon shine on our new friendship that would continue on for 35 more years.

Everyone we knew realized we had nothing in common. I love sports, in fact have almost always worked in sports. She hated sports, especially the pros and big time college teams. I enjoy chick flicks, she craved a good murder-mystery. She loved to read and dearly loved her music from the 60's and 70's, especially top 40 and bubble gum bands. Her encyclopedic knowledge of this era taught me to appreciate some great and not so great music, but most importantly, we discovered our common ground.

I teased her constantly while dating  about her obsession with The Osmonds until she opened my eyes by allowing me to accompany her to a concert at the Ohio State Fair. It was then that I realized she had taste in music and performing, both of which these brothers could do.

But Julie, never mainstream, did not go for Donny. Her love was with the drummer, Jay Osmond. She had the ability to talk her way backstage during state fair concerts when they were held outside on the grandstand stage. Following one of their concerts, she had a picture taken backstage with Jay.  On her 50th birthday with a hint from her family, Jay sent Julie a personal happy birthday wish which took the sting out of turning 50.

But despite our wide range of interests, we always found ways to talk, laugh after arguments, understand weaknesses, appreciate the good in each other and simply enjoy our time together. Ours was never what you would call a love affair, she despised public displays of affection. What we had was a friendship that included love, respect, loyalty and a desire to always make each other smile and be happy, whether we wanted to or not. We took care of each other when faced with challenges, mentally and physically, listened as the other cried or screamed but always knew when it was time to support each other. Call it instinct, call it kismet  but this was our relationship, this was my friend Julie.

Friendship was important to Julie and everyone was her new best friend. I always pitied the person who had to sit next to Julie on an airplane because what they did not know was she was bound and determined to make them her newest best friend. But more important to Julie were her true best friends, the ones she grew up with from the 5th grade. These people were Julie's world and she willingly accepted the challenge of keeping this group together and together they remain, being there for each other at times of need or just sitting well into the night trading the same stories over and over as if they remembered them for the first time.


Like all at the silly love stage, we had nicknames. Ours was based on visiting a Piggly-Wiggly grocery store while dating and from that we somehow christened each other Pig and Wig.  both had cool cars while dating, hers a white 1973 Mustang convertible and mine a 1969 Camaro. We loved the ocean, any ocean, got to visit Hawaii twice and somehow together we raised three amazing children despite trying to be their friend and not their parents. We taught them a great deal of wrong and a little bit of right and always justified this form of parenting so that they would learn from our mistakes and create better lives for themselves. I don't recommend this method for anyone but the results so far are looking good.


This is just a glimpse of the person I got to call my wife, but more importantly my best friend.
If you asked me to describe Julie in one word it would be complex. She always told people she was a Gemini, the sign of duality and you never knew which Julie you would get each day. One day would be the free spirit outgoing Julie just looking for a party and the next would be quiet, pensive Julie who just wanted to be alone with her thoughts.

But it didn't matter which Julie you experienced, she would somehow leave her mark on you, wowing you with her knowledge of pop music, making you laugh with her ability to tell a story, making you mad with her honesty or just realizing she somehow got you to reveal things about yourself that normally you would tell no one. Then you knew you had just found your new best friend.

Making Old New Again

We all have memories we would like to re-live and some we would just as soon forget. They exist,  good or bad, to remind us of what makes us happy and what not to repeat again.

Thomas Jefferson, who seemed to speak as if he knew he would be quoted forever, said "I like the dream of the future better than the history of the past." For me this journey that I have started is my dream, feeling better, looking better and just adding years to my life so that I can create new memories that include my family and my grandchildren.

But the history of my past is what is motivating me, so sorry Mr Jefferson, but I need to dwell in the past once in awhile. First of all the weight I had reached would have been a bowling average to be envied. Slowly, almost too slowly, the pounds are falling and that will be a past I hope to never repeat.

This week also rekindled a memory I hold dear and would love to repeat again with one of my grandkids. It was a day that my son Kyle and I will treasure.

Kyle and I have a shared passion, sports. There is little we are able to talk about beyond that, although he and his Mom can find a multitude of topics to talk about into the wee hours of the night. I guess he just plays to my strengths. Part of that passion is our love of stadiums, preferably the old but the new have their advantages. I went so far as to plan a weeks journey for he and I that would have taken us from Pittsburgh to Philadelphia to Washington DC, then on to Baltimore, New York and ending up in Boston, seeing a baseball game in the stadiums of those cities, all new except for the finale at Fenway Park.  This trip has moved to the bucket list and each season I check the schedules to see if its possible.

We did see a game at Wrigley Field and experienced a Monday Night Football game at Lambeau Field, but one stadium is just a little more special, mainly because it no longer stands.

1999 was the final season for Tiger Stadium in Detroit, a stadium that had seen better days, but still held on to a part of baseball history. I had never seen the stadium and I wanted Kyle and I to experience an old baseball stadium together and this was the closest to home. It was a Friday night game with the Boston Red Sox near the end of July and we had bought tickets in the lower deck in the right field corner.

We arrived in Detroit and the stadium in the early afternoon. Lunch was on the agenda and keeping with the nostalgia of the day, Kyle picked Casey's Pub a neighborhood bar two clocks from the stadium, because they had a sign that said "Great Cheeseburgers." So Casey's it was. Besides the locals who had their places at the bar, there were a few tables and we chose our seats and ordered our cheeseburgers.

At the next table was an older couple who quickly struck up a conversation with us, probably to find out why a grown man brought a 13 year old boy into a bar on Michigan Avenue in the middle of the afternoon. It turned out, they were there  for the same reason as Kyle and I, killing time before the baseball game. But they came to Tiger Stadium for a different reason, to see their beloved Red Sox. They were Fenway Park season ticker holders, had been for years, so they had prime tickets for every Red Sox game. We spent the afternoon experiencing Fenway through their eyes and memories but this was just the beginning of a day that could never be repeated.

We departed Casey's and our new friends to catch the tour of Tiger Stadium, seeing Ernie Harwell's tiny broadcast booth that seemed to hang directly over home plate and the famous in play flag pole in center field. This stadium, although it had a death sentence at the end of the season, was quickly becoming a new friend.

As we waited at the corner of Trumbell and Michigan for the gates to open we once again met our new friends from Boston. They just happened to have two extra tickets to the game. We had ours but their's offered bit of a different view, 6 rows behind the Tigers dugout. They were ours as long as I promised not to sell them.

I don't have words that have not already beed used by much better writers than I to describe that night and what we got to see but they are images that have a special place in my own gallery of memories.

This week I returned to "The Corner" where the stadium once stood. All that remains is the field that is maintained not by experienced grounds crews, but volunteers who trespass with their lawnmowers to keep the heart of this otherwise vacant lot beating. The famous flagpole still stands in what used to be center field with the 1984 World Series Banner flying proudly. Beyond that you have to draw on experience and memories to appreciate what was once there. Even with just our one game experience, it is a bit emotional to stand there looking through the fence and wishing once again you could go back in time and witness a small piece of baseball history.

These are the dreams I hold for the future with my grandkids, that together,  we will share an interest and find a way to experience it in person, whether it's a book, a place, the arts or sports, I want to give to them the gift Kyle and I received that July day in 1999, a day that will live as long as we do, if only in our memories.

As far as the Journey to a better me, there has been weight loss and I am adapting to life without potato chips and bread and pasta. Eventually some of that will creep back into my diet, but not until I adapt to portion controls and more of this extra Matt is lost. I attempted to take what is called a "recreational" walk but found that muscles need activity, regularly or they revolt in order to teach you a lesson. Mine began their own revolution against me just 4 blocks from our house,  which as I turned to return to,  seemed to have move to the next county in distance. But I huffed and puffed my way back those 4 blocks and wondered what have I done. I know it's baby steps and months from now I will wonder why I didn't do it sooner. It's too early for this life to become a vacant lot so the rebuilding continues and each day new improvements will lead to a smaller but better me, which sad to say is the way of new baseball stadiums.

Good Wine, Good Friends....Good God!!!

It's a well known fact that things like wine and single malt scotch get better through the process of fermentation and as they age, their value rises, their taste improves and well, they just get better with age. So that thought drew me to the dictionary to see what ferment really meant.

Ferment: To be in a state of agitation or intense activity....who knew what really goes on in those barrels.

So what does fermentation have to do with this blog. Well, like wine and scotch we like to think our lives and our bodies get better with age. But speaking for this tired old bag of bones and skin, the only thing getting better for me are the odds I will not reach the ripeness of old age and enjoy the fruits of my labor. I am quickly spoiling and  my ability to better with age will be lost.

Over the past month or so, there have been, lets say, warning flags or as comedian Bill Engvall calls them, signs for the stupid, like getting my fat ass stuck in a chair or just not being able to maintain my body hygiene...nuff said....I am bigger today than I have ever been in my life. I have also been diagnosed with sleep apnea that has cost me financially, physically and mentally as well as strained a 33 year old marriage. After enduring a sleep study that revealed collapsing airways every 30 seconds and blood oxygen levels only the dead would have envied, I now sleep with a machine that allows me to sleep like most people. Before my Bi-pap machine, I was falling asleep while sitting up which caused me to fall into things like furniture or off of chairs. In a movie it would be called slap-stick, for me it was a slap in the face.

So that began phase one of getting better with age. My apnea was affecting my life in a very negative way, but it also provided me with an excuse not to do anything physically, I was just too tired. Remember part of fermenting is intense activity so I am not getting better, I am just stinking up the place. Now after 10 days, I feel I have more energy, but I fear I am going to miss my dear friend, the excuse of being too tired.

So I have experienced warning flags, ah-ha moments and signs of stupidity, but today I got hit upside the head as I came face to face with my ever growing problem, I bought a scale.

Those digital numbers will never replace a dog as man's best friend but today the number 288 will not be my pick three or the beginning of a new pin number. That my friends is my current weight. It's not a surprise. All I have to do is look at pictures of special events in my families lives to document my increasing footprint on planet earth.

I also know I am very lucky that my wake up calls, including today's $20.00 purchase, have not involved great physical harm in the form of heart attacks or strokes, but I too often feel I am treading on ice thick enough to hold a car but for me it's becoming increasingly thin.

So today I proclaim war on weight, the fight against fat and a battle against bulge. As a part of this skirmish, I will use this blog and its readers to hold me accountable. I know I am setting my self up for failure and embarassment  by publishing this and future blog posts, but nothing else has worked to motivate me to make these necessary changes so why not success through humiliation.

There are personal reasons....I want to track my success or failure as a reminder in the future as changes continue to be made, good or bad.  It is also a writing challenge for me to have this as a part of my routine. This means it won't always be about weight gain or loss  or how many miles I have walked.

I also have a pretty cool job that is fun to talk about as a producer-director for ESPN, doing college sports. So there will also be updates and thoughts about places I get to visit and things I get to cover in college football and basketball.

I also have three grown and great kids whose lives are changing constantly and a part of that is the soon to be arrival of our number two and three grandchildren. That alone should be the motivation I need to get me started and to conquer my enemy  and my fear of failure.

And more than anything, I have a very caring and supportive wife, Julie, who rides this roller coaster of a life with me. I'm quite sure there are many times she would like to get off and see me ride alone without the safety bar, but for some reason she is always there beside me.

So there it is. I stand naked before you....not to worry I will not include before pics....my hopes and fears published for those who care or can tolerate the goings on of an average life documented by an average writer. I have a diet plan and an exercise program that includes a gym membership that last year cost me $600.00 per visit....well one visit and $50.00 per month. I also have goals. Not so much a number, but a present to myself. You see in October of 2015 I will turn 60. At one time I played and enjoyed golf even though I never broke 90 I don't think. But on or near my 60th birthday, I want to be physically able to play Pebble Beach Golf Links, walking with a caddy and re-learn the game of golf to finally break 90 strokes for 18 holes, maybe  not at Pebble Beach, but on regular basis.

I also have a number in mind, but know there are plateaus and weight levels that I will face and don't want a number as my only measurement of success. I also have clothes I want to wear again, be able to wear a tie and button the top button on a shirt, enjoy yard work again and not ache every day. But more than anything I want to see and enjoy what my Dad didn't get to witness, grandchildren grow up.

Someone once said "Next year I will be older than I have ever been before." Kind of a Yogi Berra statement but to know I will be able to see next year and the years after as I keep getting older than last year, I will know everyday, I am getting better with age.

Its All About Winning

It has all the ingredients for a battle royale. Two teams claiming to be favorites, fans split down the middle as to where to pledge their loyalties and the players speaking out at every opportunity. Their comments have given fodder to the experts who chime in daily with analysis and predictions. But the question remains, what’s at stake and who will benefit the most by winning?

As the teams prepared for battle, the concern of most was how each team would respond to the passion of their fans. The cheers were loud when the home team led by their young and somewhat inexperienced quarterback took the field. But it wasn’t long before jeers from the opponents drowned out the home team's excitement. Halfway through the first half no one could hear the cheering but started to listen to the ever increasing chorus of boos coming from the visitors dressed in red. It was almost as if the fans in the stands had no voice except to complain.

Some of the fans at the game would cheer only when the message on the scoreboard said “CHEER NOW!!,” almost as if they were being told what to think and say. Others were loyal to the team who seemed to have promises of hope for seasons to come. But if history tells us anything about this game, the trash talk will most certainly start as soon as the clock strikes zero and the victor never really has a chance to celebrate. Throw away the record books and end the speculation, it’s time for Red vs. Blue!

As the two teams struggled for an early lead, it was quickly becoming obvious to the boisterous fans this would be a back and forth, mudslinger of a match up. The home team dressed in their bright blues appeared to be the favorite after their historic win two season ago, but lately had fumbled away opportunities leading up to this match up and their status as the nation’s leader in the polls seemed to be slipping.

Their opponents appeared to be confident despite missteps prior to this challenge. Often these miscues led to embarrassing moments and at times, the red on their faces was as bright as the uniforms they wore. Their biggest obstacle going in was trying to develop some sort of a game plan and also to avoid tripping over simple things like who their mascot would be.

Once called the Mavericks, they seem to begin leaning towards the Grizzlies as this match up neared closer. Some fans even thought a Newt should be their mascot, but no one seemed to know what that stood for. To further confuse their fans, they sometimes appeared as if they played with their hands tied behind their backs, and liked it like that. Then without notice team members would appear at parties where tea was being served to guests and then tried to fit in. These apparent public boners by team leaders could be a major reason for their underdog status leading up to this match up.

For about the first 100 seconds of the game, the home team led by their young quarterback out of Chicago appeared confident, but was sacked early and often and had to rely on trick plays to bail themselves out of trouble. The former Mavericks were quick to try and take advantage of what appeared to be mistakes and even tried mocking the other teams quarterback teasing him about his looks, his mother and his ethnicity. Fans seemed to get behind this more and more, especially when the former Mavericks new mascot, a Fox came running onto the field and the visitors were starting to take control of the momentum.

As the game wore on the health of the home team was a concern and once again, the Grizzlies, er Foxes try to seize control. But too often they relied on intimidation and finger pointing to get back in the game and finally it looked as if the home team had scored but they settled only for a field goal.

Despite their efforts to bring new change to their offense, the home team struggled in the 2nd quarter and fatigue was playing a factor-possibly due to the massive loss of jobs that hit the team soon after becoming champions 2 years ago. It seemed no matter what they tried, they could not move forward and the confidence of their fans was waning.

Without a win, more jobs could be lost and the Grizzlies, sorry Foxes- had a new defense to throw at the home team, the Blitz and Punish, nicknamed BP.

With the 1st half nearing an end, the home team seemed lost, almost as if they spent too much time on golf vacations and not prepared to respond to what the Mavs, or is it Newts, oh yeah, Foxes led by their self appointed leader Beck, were using against the home team in order to stop their winning ways. The Foxes were beginning to march and the home team didn’t seem to have a prayer.

With the game just half over it was becoming obvious to many in the stands and watching on TV , all who had much riding on the outcome of this game, that the visiting team and their not so quiet leadership had only one thing on their mind-Win and it did not matter at who’s expense.
During their pre-game pep rallies, they claimed a victory would be for their fans, but their defense throughout the first half was creating a great deal of anger on the field and off and concerns were being raised about the amount of dirty play they were getting away with.

As the home team limped to the locker room at halftime the question would be how could they remain on top if a majority of the players don’t return for the 2nd half and would a win by the visitors really be a win for the fans?

Nows The Time

Now more than ever, we as a country, the freest and most powerful in the world, must come together to support each other. As so many suffer from job losses and financial setbacks and others cope with the death of loved ones to wars in other countries we can no longer be perceived as divided and lost in greed or as being manipulated by our own elected leaders.
It’s also a time to remember the thousands of families that must live each day without fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, sons and daughters who have chosen not just to fight for freedom but to proudly stand up for this country they call home while some of our leaders tear us apart through mindless actions, selfish agendas and hurtful words.
It’s a time our leaders lead by positive actions and stop placing blame while offering no solutions. And we as the people who call America home begin to show more pride in what we have and never take for granted what others wish they had.
It’s a time we must forget hatred and arrogance and begin to show the rest of the world what it means to be called the leader of the free world through compassion and common sense and not govern by name calling and child like finger pointing.
The beliefs and actions by one man today in Washington DC cost not just the life of a dedicated security guard, it cost us as a country another step back to the days of our history that we should only learn from and never repeat. This was another in a series of events over that past few years that demonstrates to the rest of the world how little too many of us respect and appreciate what we have while trying to convince other nations that this is right for them.
Believe or don’t believe, trust or distrust agree or disagree you’re free to choose. But never forget how we earned the right to be called leaders of the free world and sometime, in your own way, choose to demonstrate to the rest of world what it means to be proud and free.